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Hope.
It was the reason she was here. With Joel. With her daughters. It was all she had left.
Mama, look!
Maisy’s voice echoed in her head, and she snapped her gaze to where her oldest daughter stood on a branch of a tree in the churchyard. She pointed toward another carriage.
One with the royal emblem etched to the side.
“No,” she breathed as her hands trembled with fear. The emblem flashed before her eyes, an onslaught of horrible memories filling every crevice of her mind as her breaths came in rapid spurts. “Not Liam. Not Liam.”
Darkness. Anger. Pain. Fear.
No. No. No.
“Nyana, look at me.”
Instead of Liam’s hate-filled eyes, she stared into green eyes filled with warmth and kindness. Although Joel didn’t touch her, his hand rested on her cane, just below hers. The almost touch slowly brought her back from the darkness of the past and into the reality of the present.
“It’s just Calle,” Joel reassured.
Her eyes widened as a new fear took hold of her heart. “You told me he wasn’t invited.”
“He’s not. I don’t know why he’s here.”
Maisy squealed excitedly as she jumped down from the tree, stumbling to keep her balance before she ran toward the front doors and burst inside. Nyana chased after her, her heart pounding in rhythm with her limp.
“Calle! Calle! Calle!” Maisy called his name, her voice echoing across the grand walls of the cathedral. Calle turned suddenly from where he spoke with Skaja and the priest, surprise written in his features moments before Maisy launched herself into his arms.
“Why you look pretty today,” he replied with a grin. “Did your mama braid your hair?”
She shook her head. “Joel did. He’s going to be my new papa today.” She gasped. “Uncle Calle, look!” She grabbed the end of one of her braids and held it against a plaited strand on the side of his face. “Our hair is the same color!”
Nyana’s entire body froze over with ice before panic set into her frenzied heart. When Calle’s eyebrows pulled together as he looked Maisy over, Nyana closed the remaining distance between them and snatched her—their—daughter out of his arms and set her down.
“Go sit, Mais.”
“But Mama—”
“Go.”
Maisy sulked away before seeming to forget about it entirely as she laughed and weaved in and out of the white stone pillars and ran across a pew. Joel joined them a moment later, carrying Eva in one of his arms.
“Huh…” Calle stared after Maisy as she hopped down from one pew and ran across another, much to the disgruntled expression of the priest, who now busied himself with stacks of parchment near the front.
“What?” she whispered, afraid her voice any louder might give away her sudden fear. She and Joel weren’t married yet. He couldn’t find out now.
Calle shook his head as he turned his attention back to Nyana. “Nothing. It’s just…no, nothing.” He frowned, glancing between her and Joel. “I thought the wedding was next week.”
“It was,” Joel answered, absently rubbing his hand over Eva’s back as she clung to him. He shared a meaningful look with Nyana, one that asked how much Calle should know. She shook her head. It was best if Calle didn’t get involved. While still holding her, Joel helped Eva out of her coat. “We moved it to today. Why are you here?”
“Rude.” Calle snorted and wrapped his arm around Skaja’s waist, pulling her close to his side. The harpy’s brown eyes watched them warily, not seeming to miss a detail. “Are we not allowed to finalize the details of our wedding ceremony with the priest? Don’t worry, we’ll get out of your way.”
His amber eyes melted into uncertainty and regret as he held her gaze. So many things were left unsaid between them. So many things she couldn’t say. So many things he wouldn’t mention. His six years of slavery. Her six years of torment. The love they used to have. The dreams they used to share.
And the biggest secret of all.
The words they had expressed when he’d saved her from Liam hadn’t been enough closure. Perhaps nothing would ever be enough.
